Three's Company
by black pudding thief
Summary: When circumstances lead to Hermione, Harry and Ron sharing a flat in London, all it takes is a few too many butterbeers to change everything...
1. Because of a Dungbomb

**Title: **Three's Company

**Author:  **J.K.A.

**Rating:  **Currently PG-13

**Disclaimer:  **As I'm sure you knew, I do not own Harry Potter

**Summary:  **When circumstances lead to Hermione, Harry and Ron sharing a flat in London, all it takes is a few too many butterbeers to change everything…

**Notes:** This story takes place when the trio is eighteen. It is based on the more carefree side of Harry Potter, and although I don't think I'll go into the details, Harry and the gang defeated Voldemort for good in seventh year. ****

**_Chapter One: _**_ Because of a Dungbomb_

Hermione was a successful young woman.

She rented her own flat over a coffee shop in downtown London, she had her own department in the Ministry of Magic, owned a respectable wardrobe of Muggle and Magical vintage, had an honourable amount of galleons at her disposal under Gringotts, and a large shelf full of heady books.

What her life lacked, however, was love.

At least at the moment. Viktor was off in Bulgaria for three months, going through extensive Quidditch training. 

Not that he needed it, observed Hermione, every time she sat alone at night, missing him.

And she did miss him. When she wasn't at the Ministry typing up articles and reports and organising beneficial events for the Society of the Protection of Elvish Welfare, or pleading for a bill on illegalization of the slavery of house elves, she was thinking of him.

Viktor had been staying with her for two weeks before he went back to Bulgaria for his solid training. She missed the smell of his spray-on deodorant, his thick Bulgarian accent, his difficulty at pronouncing her name, his dark eyes; his big feet; taking low, moonlit broomrides with him in Hogsmeade, whilst clinging onto him for dear life. She felt so alone ever since he left, with only Crookshanks to keep her company these chilly nights.

Harry and Ron always stopped by quite often, even though Hermione could tell that Viktor was jealous of how close the three of them were, and Ron was extremely rude to him in return. Harry didn't really say anything to him. 

Harry and Ron were sharing a flat in a modest building six blocks away, working at an exclusive new wizarding pub called _Black Cat Pub_, which was enjoying initial success, being the first all-wizarding business in London to be opened outside of Diagon Alley. 

Hermione disapproved of such a career, but Harry and Ron insisted that they just needed a little break before they began their 'real' careers. 

Hermione in return insisted that the pub business would ruin them before they got around to choosing a proper career path.

When this happened, Ron and Harry would roll their eyes and go back home to get ready for another night of work at the _Black Cat_.

* * *

It was a chilly Friday night in early October that Hermione lay curled up on her squashy red sofa, Crookshanks purring at her feet. She paused in her reading of _The Pitiful History of the House Elf, to ponder the thought of her two best friends, who had inadvertently made their way into her head._

She realised that she hadn't seen them in a total of eight days. She was surprised to feel a pinch of hurt in her stomach. Had they forgotten about her? Even with their clashing work schedules, they usually came by at least twice a week with a case or two of butterbeer [especially now that Viktor was away], and some sort of little present for her; be it a book or a bottle of ink that changed colours depending on your mood when you wrote with it.

When she had the chance, she usually stopped by to see them as well, but this week had been particularly busy at the Ministry. 

Resting her book on her chest, she stared out of the window at the red and white light beams from the cars on the street, sleep playing with her eyelids and a yawn escaping her lips. 

A comforting sleep was just swallowing her when a loud, rude knock at the door forced her awake. Jumping up, she hesitated, consulting her watch and learning that it was 11:43 PM. Yawning again, she stumbled sleepily to the door. 

Upon opening it, she was somehow not surprised to find Ron and Harry, grinning before her, each carrying a large battered suitcase, and Harry holding Hedwig's cage in his other hand. They seemed unsteady on their feet, their eyes glassy as they stared back at her.

She rubbed her eyes and groaned, cursing herself for wishing to see them just a few moments earlier.  She knew exactly what was up.  She could hear the two of them playing out the ridiculous story in her head as she stood there holding the door open, fixing them with the critical stare they were quite accustomed to receiving from her.  

They all stood there for a moment, before Ron and Harry glanced at each other and back at Hermione, and Ron opened his mouth. Hermione's hand shot up instantly.

"-Don't!" she snapped. "Instead of you telling me what's going on, why don't I tell you? You got kicked out of your flat for doing _something _characteristic of the both of you, packed your bags, and without any notion of what else to do, you went to the Leaky Cauldron for a few low-budget drinks, got yourselves pissed enough to have the courage to come to _my flat to tell me your story, hoping I'd have pity on you and tell you to stay here until you find another place."_

She stood before them with her hands on her hips, critical stare in its best form. 

"But you don't know what we _did _to get thrown out, do you?" Ron said in a mocking tone.

"Oh yeah, it was classic-" Harry began.

"And I bet you're _really_ proud of whatever it is, aren't you?" Hermione interrupted crossly.

"Well," said Ron, "I for one am proud to know that I have two big brothers who can make a dungbomb powerful enough to evacuate a _whole building. And _Mum _said a career in the joke-shop business would never excel-"_

"You did _WHAT?! Forced the __entire building to evacuate by setting off a __dungbomb?!" cried Hermione, throwing her hands in the air and obtaining the expression of a mother very distressed at the unacceptable behaviour of her teenage children. _

"We didn't try to set it off!" shot Harry in defense.

"Well you shouldn't have had it in the first place! And Ron, your mother was absolutely right when she told the twins that!"

"It's none of your concern anyway! We just need a place to stay the night. We thought you were our friend. If you came to our door in the middle of the night, we'd let _you stay." Said Ron in a voice that was supposed to sound sugary for persuasion. _

"Ron! Number one, you don't have a door anymore. Number two, I'm _much too responsible to get myself thrown out of my flat. Number three, it _is _my concern, because it means that I'm obligated to accommodate the two of you on account of something I had no part in!" _

Her head was pounding now, and she knew that as angry as she was at them for their antics, there was no way she would slam the door in their faces. A part of her secretly wanted to have her best friends living in her flat to keep her company. If it had been the middle of the day and she'd had all her strength, she would have argued more and beat around the bush with many more lectures and scoldings on what they'd done, and excuses for not letting them stay there. But she was growing very sleepy again after a long week at work, and she had nothing left in her to keep up the bullheaded façade she always felt she had to wear when she was around them. She was not completely sure why it had always been that way, but it was.

"Oh fine. All I know is I'm about to fall over from lack of sleep, and ever since Viktor left, I've had no one to talk to when I'm not at work. So stay here for a while, it doesn't matter.  As long as you each pay thirty-three point three percent of the rent and don't blow anything up. One of you can sleep on the sofa, the other can make a bed on the floor. _But- _I don't expect you to interpret this as a permanent invitation."

"Yeah, only _Vicky _would be granted an invitation like that_."_ Spat Ron nastily.

He looked guilty the moment the words had escaped his lips, and Hermione decided to ignore the remark. She had gone through too many arguments with Ron over Viktor, and their source remained unclear to her anyway, so what was the use of letting yet another unfold?

With an impatient huff, she grabbed a hold of both their coats and pulled them inside the door.


	2. Rumours

**_Chapter Two:  _**_Rumours_

"So…is it true?" Parvati whispered over a spoonful of sundae. Her dark eyes sparkled with raw curiosity as she licked a drop of hot fudge off her bottom lip and waited for Hermione to answer.

It had been a week since Harry and Ron had turned up in the middle of the night. It was Saturday, and Parvati Patil, whom Hermione had only a lukewarm friendship with, had showed up at her door while the trio were having breakfast, proposing a trip to the Hogsmeade ice cream parlour with Hermione.

"Is _what true?!"_

Parvati's eyes widened as she sighed with impatience. Her voice lost its secretive tone.

"Are you, Harry and Ron involved in a three-way relationship with each other?"

"_WHAT?!" shrieked Hermione, causing fellow patrons to turn their heads in curiosity. _"_Of course not! They're simply my temporary roommates! Not to mention best friends! Who spreads such rumours?" _

"Well…" started Parvati.

"And that's the whole reason you invited me out for ice cream, isn't it? To ask me that! And who eats ice cream on a bitter autumn day anyway? We could have at least gone to a tea house…"

"But I thought since we're out of Hogwarts now, we could get to be better friends, and-"

Hermione stood up, wiping her lips on her yellow cloth napkin, then throwing it onto the table.

"It's been very nice, Parvati, but I have a lot of work to do. S.P.E.W. will never progress if I don't work my hardest. Good-bye!" 

It wasn't until she reached the chilly, bustling autumn streets of Hogsmeade outside, before she stopped in her tracks and thought a moment. Why had what Parvati said upset her so much? She knew herself that it wasn't true, so why should it matter? It was just a stupid rumour that no one besides Parvati would be silly enough to believe, so why did she care so much?

With a moment's longer hesitation, she sighed and retraced her steps back into the ice cream parlour, ready to apologise to Parvati. She was dismayed to find that Parvati was no longer at the table. She realized that she must have Disapparated. Most likely to report back to her friends what Hermione had said, and how she had reacted to the question. She realised that her reaction probably proved to Parvati that the rumour was true.

_"Actions speak louder than words", _a little voice in her head seemed to say. Hermione's anger returned.

"But that's stupid, because the rumour's not even _true!" She hissed impatiently to the little voice._

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. She had to calm down. And maybe she should figure out why this was upsetting her so much.

When she finally returned to London, it was two in the afternoon, and Harry and Ron were found at the kitchen table, munching beans on toast and drinking milk for a late lunch. Crookshanks wound around their legs, yowling for a baked bean or two, only to be shoved away.

"What's up Hermy? Finally had your fill of ice cream?" Joked Harry through a mouthful of beans and milk.

Hermione's eyebrows appeared to be permanently knitted.

 "I stopped eating ice cream hours ago. I realised I don't really have much of a fancy for it. Oh, and please make sure you replace the food you eat. I noticed that we've already run out of eggs, which I haven't eaten any of all week."

"Why did you accept Parvati's ice cream invitation?" Ron wanted to know. "I thought you said she was too shallow for your liking."

"Well, she is. But I'm always so busy with work, I don't get out much with anybody, intelligent or not. After today though, I don't think I'd like to do anything else with her."

"Why?" asked Harry.

"Merlin's sake, why are you two so nosy?! Look, I really have to get some things done for S.P.E.W., and I'd appreciate it if the two of you would keep it down. And don't be a stranger to the food market!" 

She marched to her bedroom where her desk and important Ministry papers were kept.

"Blimey, what's bitten her in the arse?" Whispered Ron, before taking the last bite of his beans and toast.

Harry shrugged. "Maybe she's still cross with us for not having 'proper' jobs. You see the way she works. Just like in Hogwarts. She's annoyed that she has to slave away while we carry drinks on trays and clean tabletops."

"Well, she doesn't _have _to. She's the one that chooses to do it all. Gawd knows nobody at the Ministry _asked her to start up an official department for __Spew. How she got permission from the Minister, I've no clue."_

Harry was silent for a moment. "Do you ever think that maybe we're too hard on her? She's hard on us, but maybe it's our own fault. She _is sharing her flat with us. Perhaps we should do something nice for her."_

"Like _what?"_

"I don't know; it's not like we're always doing special things for her. It won't have to be very big to please her. We could take her out to dinner, since the _Black Cat's closed tonight."_

"And we'd buy her food?"

"Yes Ron, that's what it means when you "take" somebody out for dinner."

"Oh. Well, okay. But she might not want to go tonight. You heard her; _Spew awaits." _

"Well it's worth a try."

The two of them performed a cleaning spell on their plates and milky glasses, before tentatively making their way to Hermione's room regarding a dinner proposition. 


	3. Dinner at the Three Broomsticks

**_Chapter Three:_**** _Dinner at the Three Broomsticks_******

Hermione couldn't help smiling to herself as she rummaged her wardrobe, Ministry reports lain forgotten on the desk behind her. 

Maybe, just _maybe, _her friends really did care about her as much as she cared about them. To come into her bedroom after she'd been so short with them, to offer to take her to dinner, their treat!

Work could wait. If every other day of the year she was a workaholic, tonight she could be free and enjoy herself. She felt so good all of a sudden, she hummed a Weird Sisters tune as she selected a long grey skirt and a black silken blouse with silver buttons. When she was finished dressing, she unbraided her long, frizzy brown hair and let it hang free. Even the frizz didn't bother her tonight, and she felt prepared to be herself completely. 

When they arrived in Hogsmeade by Apparation, Harry and Ron immediately spotted Honeydukes, and were lured across the street by a large purple sign in the window with flashing gold letters that read: **Saturday is Chocolate Frog Card Trading Night!**

Hermione bounced impatiently on the balls of her feet and stuck her hands in her coat pockets.

"Come on you two! You promised me a dinner, not a night of trading bits of colourful cardboard!"

"Bits of colourful cardboard!" yelled Ron in offense. "At least Chocolate Frog Cards are more interesting than those dull _books_ you read-"

Harry jabbed him in the gut with his elbow, looking annoyed.

"At least those dull _books _I read are educational!"

"Well so are Chocolate Frog Cards! Honestly, can't you see the short history that's written on the back of each one-" 

"Quit it, the both of you! For once let's do something together without an argument starting-" 

"Well it's not my fault, Harry! Mr Prat over there _loves _to argue-"

"As if it's me! With her over there insulting the obvious genius of a Chocolate Frog Card-"

When they finally made it to the Three Broomsticks for dinner, Hermione and Ron were not speaking to each other, and Harry wanted to give the both of them a good whack. However, he decided to remain the mature one and try to set things right between them again.

"What are you getting, _Harry_?" asked Hermione loudly, making sure that Harry's name would not be mistaken for _"Ron". _

"I think I'm getting the beef stew special. Why don't you ask Ron what he's getting?"

"Why doesn't _Ron _ask me what _I'm getting?" Hermione shot back, her face hidden behind the tattered, thick parchment menu of the Three Broomsticks._

"Because quite frankly, _Ron _doesn't give a flying feck what Hermione is getting." 

Hermione gasped and put her menu on the table with a loud smack of her hand.

"Don't you dare curse at me!"

"I said 'feck'. Maybe you should have kept those cat ears back in second year. You'd probably hear better." Ron said calmly, his eyes never leaving his menu. Hermione made a loud huffing noise, as though she was desperately searching her brain for something to shoot back at him, but seemed to come up with nothing. 

"But oh, I suppose dearest Vicky wouldn't have approved of his ickle Hermy-ninny sporting feline ears, would he? So it's all turned out for the best, hasn't it? Yup, _everybody's happy, aren't they?"_

Harry groaned with intense annoyance as Hermione could be heard countering Ron's verbal attack. He quickly ordered a tankard of butterbeer, and gulped it down without caring that the alcohol would probably kick in stronger than usual because of his empty stomach. In fact, the thought was slightly comforting.

By the time he'd finished his third butterbeer, he became aware that the bickering seemed to have subsided. All that could be heard was the hearty laughter and storytelling of the other patrons of the Three Broomsticks. Most of them were very happy, and Harry found himself wishing that he had come here tonight with anybody but Ron and Hermione, who were now sitting quietly, but with sour expressions fixed on their faces, as they gulped down butterbeer faster than Harry was.

Down and down went more butterbeer into Harry's gut; the other two continuing to follow suit. By the time eight o' clock rolled around, it became apparent to Harry that this was no longer dinner, but a drinking session. Madame Rosemerta continued to serve them, but started to look a little hesitant to meet their wishes of more butterbeer when Ron began calling her Professor McGonagall. 

After awhile, a young redheaded wizard with a paperboy hat came in with a fiddle and started playing some fast Irish tunes. Hermione literally screamed with delight, which was very much unlike her, and yanked Harry up for a dance. 

Feeling bold from too much alcohol himself, he obliged, and the two of them tripped and stumbled and twirled around on the floor of the pub, the rest of the room laughing and calling out to them. Then Ron threw up and passed out with his head on the table, and Madame Rosemerta finally decided that she would not serve them any more drink, and hailed the Night Bus to take them back to London.

The ride to London was extremely bumpy and unpleasant, and the rest of the passengers, who were older, respectable witches and wizards, eyed the three of them disapprovingly. Harry spent the trip singing "Oh Susanna", and Ron kept trying to stand up, only to be thrown to the floor again when the bus jolted to an unexpected stop.

When the bus had arrived at Hermione's building and the doorman firmly escorted them out, they were very surprised to find themselves in London again. 

After realising that they couldn't Apparate properly, they managed to support each other and find their way up the stairs and to Hermione's door, to which she held out her wand and said, "Aloramorrra!" which of course did nothing; so Harry had a go, and by luck got it right, unlocking the door. They stumbled through, nearly tripping over each other's feet.

They were so drunk, Ron and Hermione didn't even remember they were mad at each other.


End file.
